


a fairytale that lasts.

by bhubblemilk



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 01:17:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17694827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bhubblemilk/pseuds/bhubblemilk
Summary: After sticking up to the girl that Minho and his friends placed a bet on, Minho thought it would be nice to talk to you, and guess what? he is right.





	a fairytale that lasts.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: lengthy (as you can see), feelings might be all over the place, (probably) too many repeated words. Also cursing.

Minho was never one to believe in fairy tales.

He has heard it all—the idea of an unbreakable friendship between two people, the process of meeting a stranger and falling in love, the quest to find the sacred sword and unlocking your true inner self in the process.

They all seemed to result in the same thing: a happily ever after. And it was exactly a happily ever after that Minho didn’t believe in.

The dining hall wasn’t full, but there were a handful of exhausted college kids rushing through their essay with cups of extra large, overly caffeinated drink sitting just by their pulled up knees, right at the edge of the table.

Well, at least that was what they were originally doing until Minho waltzed into the cafeteria without his girlfriend latching onto his arm as it had been for the past two months.

She did, soon enough, and your attention was diverted as soon as you heard the glass door being burst open and quick little stomps could be heard in the otherwise dead silent cafeteria. A frown tugged at your face when your train of thoughts was broken and all the ideas for your on-going story that were just flowing around at the tip of your tongue scattered away.

You were mostly frustrated, but Haeun’s eyes were teary when you looked up from your seat and needless to say, your frustration was replaced quickly with interest. Jumping into the bandwagon, you grabbed your notepad and pencil before quietly moving away from your seat to be nearer the crowd of students watching the breakup scene unfold.

“Why are you doing this? We were fine yesterday,” Haeun asked timidly, her voice coming out as a whisper but the cafeteria was so quiet that everyone around heard it.

You stifled a laugh. You saw it coming and you were right. Everyone thought she would end up with Minho one time or another, you did too, except you didn’t think it would last.

Haeun was a really nice girl, smart and pretty, popular among her department too. But with Lee Minho’s reckless and horrible dating pattern, there was no way Haeun could just happen to be that miracle girl who manages to capture his heart and change him forever.

“We were, but the bet ends today so I don’t have to put up with you anymore,” Minho’s voice echoed through the cafeteria. When his voice dropped, the atmosphere tensed up so hard you could feel the hair raising on the back of your neck.

Students were too absorbed in the scene unfolding before them to hear the sound of your pencil scraping against the thin surface of the lined paper in an almost inhuman speed as you jotted down their conversation word for word, a piece of valuable information you could use for reference later in your own story to hopefully make it feel more realistic.

“Look, if it makes you feel better, I put in so much effort that I almost convinced myself that I fell in love with you too,” Minho tilted his head to the side, a smug smirk etched on his lips.

_Okay, that was really uncalled for._ You furrowed your brows when you looked up at Haeun. You could see that her lips were quivering ever so slightly and her fists were clenched in an attempt to prevent herself from showing signs of weakness in front of the man she loved.

Cursing at the empathy and bravery that managed to break through your introverted walls and seep back into your mind, you stood up abruptly, and louder than you had ever been during a nerve-wracking presentation, you spoke.

“Okay, Haeun! That’s enough for me!” You said with a fake smile as you carefully made your way through the crowd, passed a confused Minho, and strode over to a sad Haeun who was just as bewildered as everyone was in the cafeteria.

You placed your notebook between your arm and body as you gave Haeun a one-armed hug. Pulling the girl close, you whispered into her ear, “Play along with me. You can cry later, but for now, smile and walk away with your head high.”

Haeun blinked a few times. Her thought process was being interrupted heavily by the mixed emotions she was having, but when you pulled away and gave her a look of determination, it was as if there was a mutual understanding between you two that she somehow knew exactly what you had planned.

You smiled at the light that came flooding back in her eyes, glad that this situation didn’t have to be more embarrassing for you both than it already was. “I think I got enough references than I need. You helped me big time on my final project! I am sorry I made you go out with Minho, I promise I’ll make it up to you!”

You licked your lower lip excitedly when you heard the gasps around the room, a sense of proudness boosting your small ego enough to make you feel giddy about yourself for once. Damn right, you know just how to thicken a plot. If only you could do it as smoothly when you were actually in front of your laptop screen facing a blank document with an equally blank expression.

Haeun looked at you thankfully and you smiled back despite still being able to see the fragile girl beneath her now fiery eyes. She thanked you gently before turning around and walking away, minding her confident strides carefully, while all you did was watch her back with a sense of awe.

Girls like her are so good at controlling their emotions, it is fascinating and really admirable.

The door to the cafeteria swung close and the room was once again rendered back to its silent state. You breathed in deeply, preparing yourself for the upcoming speech of shooing people away, but everyone had already scattered along their way as soon as Minho pushed himself up from the plastic chair and marched over to you.

He looked angry, but more than that he felt humiliated. Minho was a confident person, but he wasn’t so self-absorbed that he would think he should be able to get whatever he wants in life, nor was he so narcissistic that he was only capable of loving himself.

The thing was that Minho put in effort into courting Haeun after his friends made him the bet on yet another Friday party night. He successfully trapped her in the palm of his hand all the while keeping himself at a comfortable distance so that the plan wouldn’t backfire and he ends up putting himself into a committing relationship.

It was going well until you barged into the scene and destroyed it for him.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked with a chuckle that didn’t really mask his impatience.

You looked up at him, trying to look right into his eyes to stand on your ground and show him that you weren’t a person who could be easily seduced by him when in reality, a soft whisper of sweet nothings at your ear could send your heart running a marathon.

“Um, do you want a thorough explanation?” You suggested before immediately going into a ramble of lies you came up with on the spot. “You see, I took a creative writing course and I really need to pull my grade up. My teacher said if I do well in this novella I am writing, she might bump me up, so basically what I did is I plan to write a romance novel but I want realistic dialogues! So here I am–”

“Jesus Christ, shut up! I didn’t ask for your damn background story!” Minho grumbled, “I asked what the hell was that?”

“I thought you heard me. She was a bet and you were a pawn,” you said, “I think it’s a fair game. You both didn’t love each other anyway, why are you so sad about this?”

You furrowed your eyebrows suspiciously as you took a small step forward to stare him down in a more intimidating way. Minho gulped nervously at your gaze. He couldn’t tell if you had seen right through him or if you were simply feigning confidence in front of him, and that suspense was killing him slowly.

Either way, you had asked him a tough question because you were correct. He should not have cared if the bet went through or not. The worst thing he would go through from a failed attempt on making Haeun fall in love with him would be a week of light whispering and his friends’ continuous teasing, other than those he suffers little to no damage.

Saying he had put in an effort and tried to keep his own feelings at bay would only be admitting that there was even the slightest chance for him falling in love during the bet and actually getting into a happy relationship.

There wasn’t anything bad about that, it is a good plot device, it just wasn’t Minho’s kind of thing, not the whole thing that screams happily ever after.

Minho doesn’t believe in fairy tales, but why does this feel like the start of a horrible story?

You softened suddenly and Minho caught onto the way your brows relaxed and the once invisible concern came in the form of your slightly parted lips and widened eyes. He gritted his teeth. He must be showing it. Haeun talked about it before—the fear that seeps into his eyes every now and then, the sadness that he spent forever keeping as a secret.

He was giving hint at his weakness and he hated it.

“Fuck off,” was all Minho managed to utter out before he spun on his heels and left the cafeteria. His friends, shocked by his less than dramatic reaction which they had anticipated, lostly trailed after him after sparing you brief glances.

You glared after him, blowing a breath of air past your lips in relief that the conversation was finally over. Contrary to your own belief, Minho wasn’t as intimidating to talk to as you thought it would be. Well, at least not in the way you had envisioned, where you would coward in fear that he would push you down and step on your back.

He was more intimidating in a sense that he was very pleasing to look at, with alluring eyes that lies and pouty lips that pull into a charming smile. He was intimidating in a way that facing him might make you stutter a little.

But, despite all that, what you remembered was his confident facade that faded in front of you for just a second there.

You gulped as you soothed down the hem of your sweater. You might have seen something not a lot of people have the chance to see but that didn’t matter. He will never start a conversation with you again, nor will you ever voluntarily speak to him. You could throw Lee Minho away from your mind completely the way he would you.

“Show’s over, there is nothing to look at,” your voice returned back to its hushed mode when you spoke to the small crowd of student that still remained in their spot, staring at you with curiosity.

You mentally groaned to yourself. This was bad, those looks meant a few weeks of hushed conversations about you and if you were lucky, no one would approach you to ask you questions regarding the fake deal you made with Haeun.

Silently returning to your seat at the corner, you threw your notepad beside your laptop and slumped down on the chair. You shifted to find a comfortable position, your eyes scanning over the messy words you had just furiously jotted down in the process, causing you to let out a scoff.

At least you gained something out of it.

* * *

 

Minho hazily chewed on the fries he grabbed from Chan’s McDonald take out bag, earning a whine of protest that went unnoticed. They were back in the school cafeteria again and the mere sight of it brought those memories back into Minho’s head.

After running the scene in his head for the millionth time, from Haeun’s teary eyes to the words you said to the transition between fiery determination and soft tenderness that he saw behind your eyes,Minho wasn’t sure if he was more upset or mad.

And it was until Jisung snapped him out of his train of thoughts once again that he realized he was too caught up with the thought of you and the mixed emotion you had him feeling by asking just one simple question.

“What?” He asked finally, pushing all his thoughts away and turning over to look at Jisung who gestured towards the line in front of the udon stand in the cafeteria. Standing there with a wallet in hand and your laptop in the other was you, talking to the cashier lady casually and paying for your meal.

Minho rolled his eyes a little before looking at Jisung, “What about them?”

Jisung smirked, the corner of his lips tucking up almost devilishly, “What do you mean what? It’s payback time. Go talk to them, get them to like you.”

Minho furrowed his eyebrows as he leaned back against his seat, annoyed and not at all intrigued at Jisung’s idea. He had just failed his last pretend relationship and he was absolutely humiliated by the result. What made Jisung think he would be up for another round of him faking his feelings? Besides, having other people see him approaching you would only guarantee you two the position on ‘the talk of campus.’

Minho’s eyes trailed after you as you made your way back to your little corner and set down your tray. His eyes squinted at the little gestures you did after you sat down. How you tear open the wooden chopsticks bag differently than most other people he sees do, and how you have to put your noodles in the spoon before you eat them.

He scoffed with a curt reply, “No.”

Jisung pouted but he didn’t push any further than Minho wanted him to. Chan, who had been sitting at the side grumbling about his lost fries, gave Minho a glance before he hummed and looked up, “Minho, you’re looking. If you really aren’t interested, you can start by paying less attention and thinking less about them.”

“I wasn’t thinking about them,” Minho protested but his confidence was shot down quickly by a raise of an eyebrow from Chan. “Okay, fine, but it isn’t because I am interested in them, it is because I am mad at them–fuck, I don’t even know their name yet they’re twisting these thoughts in my head.”

Chan looked over at you before his eyes landed back on Minho’s troubled expression. “Talk to them. It will help you more than you think.”

Minho inhaled in contemplation. He could just get over it by himself, he knew he will get over it eventually. It wasn’t like him to get so hung up on something like this. But, in his defense, you did strike a nerve within him that not a lot of people have crossed over, and it wasn’t because those people were scared but that Minho never let anyone know such a line exist.

He stood up slowly, throwing his two friends a glare in the process, and he made his way over to you. The spoon in your hand halted to a stop when you noticed Minho’s presence and your eyes immediately narrowed in caution. When Minho sat down on the chair across from you, a bright and confident smile on his face, you knew you were about to be in more trouble than you had thought.

“Hey…” Minho trailed off, waiting for you to introduce yourself.

You cleared your throat, “(Name).”

“Right, (Name). So, how are you doing?”

The way he was smiling sent you shivers down your spine. He didn’t look mad but you could almost feel the cold venom laced in his tone as he asked that tricky question.

What did he expect you to say? What kind of answer would satisfy him the most and get him off your back? To hear that you were feeling regret or that you had lied to everyone about Haeun not having feelings for him?

No. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of successfully messing with a girl’s feelings and bringing you down so quickly.

“What’s it to you?” You blurted out, playing around with your udon and not daring to look at him in the eye like last time, funnily enough. You were just so determined, where did they all go the second you realized your tone might have been too harsh.

Minho tilted his head to the side, his mind springing up lies after lies as quickly as possible., “Nothing, I just wanted to know.”

“Why do you care, didn’t you ask me to fuck off?” You retorted.

Minho heaved a heavy sigh. This was way harder than he thought it would be. “Look, (Name), we got off the wrong foot, alright?” He said slowly, his voice soft and manipulative. “I’m sorry I told you to fuck off, I… well I meant it but I have my reasons. I just want us to be friends.”

Your chewing slowed down as you took your time processing what he just said. You wanted to ask to make sure you didn’t hear anything wrong or that you didn’t get the wrong idea, but looking briefly into his round eyes, you could almost see genuinity in them.

“Uh…” Turning your head to the side, you quickly scanned the cafeteria for his friends. You needed to see if this was a prank, or if this was one of their elaborate plans to get you to fall straight down a hole.

As you expected, you saw Jisung and Chan sitting not too far away from you two, sharing a McDonald meal together, but they weren’t looking at your table, they were simply enjoying their food. You couldn’t tell if this was a prank or not if they weren’t hovering over and trying to witness the reaction.

“Did you eat?” You asked when you returned your attention to Minho.

The question caught him off guard, making him answer with his first instinct, “No, no I haven’t. Why?”

“The first step to being friends, Minho, I’m going to share my food with you.” You slowly pushed your tray toward his way, “You can have some of mine if you want, I can’t finish it anyway.”

Minho was startled at your peculiar offer. He searched your face, expecting to see discomfort or hatred lying somewhere beneath the corner of your lips but all he could find was nonchalance and exhaustion even though just a second ago you were all riled up and talking back to him as if he ran his car over your family.

You let out a strained noise when Minho snatched the chopsticks away from your hand and dug into the food himself. You eyed him weirdly, “I was using that, you’re okay with it?”

“You were, but your mouth never touched it. You put everything on your spoon before you eat them, so it’s cool,” he said before slurping on the udon. After that, he clipped a chunk of noodle up and carefully placed them on your spoon, adding a small piece of chashu on top. “And don’t worry, I won’t touch it either so I got you covered.”

You relaxed, surprised that he caught on to something that took your mother a long time to point out within just a couple of minutes. An observant person like him comes with a lot of good traits that you chose to skim past solely because it was Minho sitting in front of you, but nonetheless, he had managed to soften you up despite your negative opinion about him.

You stuck the spoon in your mouth and right after you pulled it out, Minho went ahead and stacked some more food on it. The same pattern, noodle and then a piece of chashu on top.

You glanced down at the bowl and back up at him, “Do you want the chashu? This is the last piece.”

Minho paused his movements to look at you intently before he shook his head in disapproval. “Who gives away meat like that?” He asked, pushing your hand to your mouth, “You paid for it so you eat it.”

You hesitantly did so, gently chewing on the meat and letting your eyes wander around the table. He was being nice to you, so nice to you that you felt the need to stay alert at what lays ahead in the future. And you would, but for now, during this particular moment, you were going to enjoy the phenomenal idea of not feeling lonely in such a packed cafeteria.

* * *

You ran across the building to get to your psychology class after being held up in your creative writing class and spending too long discussing your characters and their development with your teacher.

When you got closer to the door, you mentally thanked the gods that there were shuffling sounds from inside, indicating that the students were working among themselves and most likely would not notice you walking in late.

Fixing your hair a little, you pushed the door open and made your way inside. You looked to the class, seeing that everyone has already grouped together and were talking about what you assumed to be the project displayed on the white screen.

The teacher waved you off when you looked like you were about to explain yourself. She gestured towards the class, “Find someone to partner up with or you can do this by yourself. You’re lucky I haven’t start explaining anything yet.”

You bowed politely before going to the nearest empty seat and settling yourself down. Even though nothing much happened and your teacher’s tone was not at all harsh, your heart somehow raced immensely as if you had just been accused of something bad. Placing your hand at your chest, you attempted to even out your breathing by inhaling and exhaling slowly.

“Hey, (Name).”

You opened your eyes wide, not daring to look towards the direction where the familiar voice came from. But Minho decided to show himself in your vision by moving his head over in front of yours, startling you even further than you already were.

He laughed faintly at your overdramatic reaction, leaning forward with his head pushing against his propped up palm as he stared at you with curious eyes. You, on the other hand, was trying your best not to fall right into his gaze and get your face all heated up, as you would.

“Minho! What are you doing here?” You asked dumbly.

“I take this class too, (Name), what else?” Minho replied as a matter of factly.

“Yeah, I know that, of course,” you said, shaking your head.

Funny how both of you only just realized you two were in the same class even though it had been almost a full semester already. Minho was the type to not remember you even after he saw you and you always leave the classroom too fast to give anyone a chance at talking to you.

Your routes just brush past each other barely all the time. If only one of you had paid more attention… nothing would have happened anyway. Minho still wouldn’t care and neither would you.

People like you don’t hang out with people like him, generally speaking.

“I meant like what are you doing sitting next to me? Don’t you already have a partner?” You asked, finally gathering up the strength to look at him in the eyes.

“No, I like doing projects solo. All the planning to meet up and doing the work was too much of a bother for me,” he said casually, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “But you’re my friend so I guess I can make an exception.”

“You are so sure I need a partner?” You asked, rolling your eyes at him.

Minho laid his head down on his crossed arms, his smile patient. “No, I think you are smart enough to hold your own actually, but I wouldn’t know if I don’t try, right?”

You looked away, unsure if you felt more annoyed or flustered at the fact that Minho knew exactly what to say and how to say them. The way he levels out his tone to sound like he didn’t calculate anything beforehand and everything that comes out of his mouth were genuine just send fresh waves lapping over your heart all the time.

And for a moment you forgot how you two first met each other and what he had done. All you could think of was that sitting next to you, with his head in his arms and his bangs covering half of his eyes, Minho was smiling up at you expectantly and you wanted to say yes to him.

“I… let’s see how serious this project is,” you covered his eyes and pushed him away gently, facing the teacher and hoping she could start soon.

Minho grabbed a hold of your hand and removed it from his head, a smile playing on his face. Your hand was rather dry, different from Haeun’s lotion-filled ones, and he could see the gray smudge marks at the side of your palm. He assumed it was from all the writing you do in your notebooks.

He loved that he could tell what you were passionate about from it.

You weren’t paying attention to him anymore, with your eyes focused on the powerpoint and your hand running across the pages of your line paper, jotting down important notes that can help get you a good grade in the class.

The playful grin on Minho’s dimmed to a faint smile at your somewhat attractive seriousness, he looked away, willing himself not to think too much into it. He had a rule with Haeun, and he has it with you: stay sharp and don’t fall.

This isn’t a fairy tale, you two don’t belong to each other.

* * *

You made a note to yourself when you saw Minho walking outside the school’s greenhouse, a place you go to whenever you wanted to avoid the loud cafeteria, to apologize to his friends when you have the chance for stealing Minho away from them all the time.

Well, technically speaking, it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask him to be clingy, he simply chose to spend time with you, and your heart thumps a little every time you see him marching over to you with that wide grin of his, happy that he finally found you on campus.

“What do you want?” You asked when you felt him approach.

Minho sat down next to you near the water fountain in the middle, stretching his legs out. “Nothing. Wh, I can’t even hang out with you now?”

You rolled your eyes but a laugh escaped your lips, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Surely you didn’t. Minho had been joining you on lunches and psychology classes for the past few weeks. You were learning to enjoy his company more and more as days pass by that you actually considered him your friend. It was safe to say that if Minho was to pull some weird stunt and stop hanging out with you altogether, you would be in more pain than you ever hope to be.

But that wasn’t up to you, was it? It’s up to Minho whether he breaks your heart or not.

You were too indulged in your own thoughts, you didn’t realize Minho had leaned over to look over your shoulder, reading the words written on your notebook. You only snapped out of your thoughts when you felt his breath fanning your neck, and immediately you moved away with a yelp.

It could be his hot breath or the fact that he was reading your story planning. It could be both. But you were in denial, so you told yourself it was only the latter.

Minho smirked, “Oh, come on, let me see. I am curious! Am I in that book?”

You turned to him with furrowed brows, displeasure written all over your face. “No, Minho. Artists don’t just show their things to people, I thought your friends make music!”

“Yeah, but they were fine with showing it to me,” Minho shrugged.

“Because they are your friends, you guys are close and you trust each other, Minho,” you explained, pulling your notebook closer to your chest.

Minho tilted his head to the side then, his tongue swiping across his lower lip in thought before he asked, “Are we… do you not… I thought we’re friends.”

“We are, but we are not there yet,” you emphasized, pointing the rubber of your pencil at him.

Oh, what a relief. You got him thinking you still hated him there.

You relaxed, regaining your position and letting go of your notebook. “And no, you aren’t in this story. You aren’t in any of my stories, actually.”

Minho gasped, “What? Why? I thought you were using me as references!”

“Just for dialogues, Minho. I am using what you said as references, not who you are,” you pointed out.

Well, that was disappointing. First, the fact that you wouldn’t show him your work, then realizing that there was actually nothing to show him at all. He had come to terms with what happened and was really anticipating the outcome of your imagination. Guess that was all shattered into nothing now.

You pursed your lips together when you saw his disappointed state. Your leg bounced up and down impatiently before you groaned and flipped to a new page of your notebook, cursing the fact that he was your only friend and he held importance to your life, meaning you would go out of your way to keep him there.

“How about we make one right now? A character based on you. I will see if I can come up with something for him, a brand new story just for you,” you cooed at him, sitting closer so he could share the notebook.

Minho side-eyed you, the corner of his lips tugging up excitedly as he watched you write down the general information and put down his name on top.

This is his. Only for him, from you. There was something about that piece of information that just sends him waves and waves of happiness.

“Oh, can he look like me?” Minho asked, pointing at himself.

“Sure, might as well make him act just like you too,” you said as you scribbled the ideas down. Moving down to characteristics, you hummed, “Where do I start… observant, confident, but also…”

When you trailed off, Minho leaned closer to hear you, but you had completely muted yourself from the world and was now putting your full focus on the character at hand. He frowned a little, wanting to hear you describe him more than ever, but he settled with looking at you write instead.

Placing his head on your shoulder, he read along the lines that you have written, “Observant, confident, smart…” he grinned as he whispered along the words until it suddenly came to a downturn. “Minho is mostly a happy person, but he is tired, tired from having to… mask the sadness in his eyes with flirtatious comments… and overdramatic laughs.”

Minho clenched his jaw, his eyelids slowly dropping down so his eyes were half opened, making him seem sleepy to others’ eyes. He thought he was being careful with his emotions when he was with you, but with spending more time with you, he gradually grew to know that despite being a rather quiet person, you have a lot to say.

And that wasn’t surprising. He has plenty of friends who are quiet thinkers. But you were also shy, the kind of shy that goes away once you find out that someone else needed yours to leave.

You could yell if someone needed you to, you would stop a stranger if someone needed you to, you would hold his face in your hands and look right into his eyes if he needed you to tell him everything is going to be okay for him, even if you were never one to initiate skinship like that.

You were the type to throw away your fears as soon as someone needs your confidence to come into play, and Minho thought that was absolutely precious, and he was falling too quick to be able to give time for his mind to catch up with his feelings.

So maybe a part of him wanted you to know and yearned for your comfort too much to bother with constantly hiding all the pain away. He subtly showed a secretive side of him to you and you had paid enough attention to notice.

You saw, you knew, and you didn’t just brush it off. You chose to put it in something important to you.

You inhaled in accomplishment, bringing your notebook up to your face level and smiling at your handiwork.

“(Name)…”

You hummed questioningly, turning your head slightly to the side.

“Do I really look sad sometimes?”

You looked back at the paper, your hand unconsciously tightening around its edges in nervousness. “Yeah, you try to hide it but it’s there. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have written that down–”

“No, it’s fine,” Minho reassured quietly, shaking his head before he buried his face to the crook of your neck, his lips pressing loosely against your sensitive skin. You didn’t pull away.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled again, leaning his weight against your side. When you sighed gently and circled your arm around his shoulder, bringing him closer for a tighter, more consoling hug, the only response he could give you was to return the hug.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened but it’ll get better. It’ll be slow, but I promise it gets better,” you mumbled, placing your cheek gently on top of his head.

Minho pouted. You smelt like the rose lotion he could find in a lot of shops from the mall. It was nostalgic and welcoming, you smelt like home. He breathed slowly and surely, letting his sadness sink away into the sea as your hand reached out to pull up back up shore as his mind blanked.

Huh… when did he stop comparing you to Haeun?

Minho tightened his grip on you, shifting his head to the side so his cheek pressed against your shoulder.

This wasn’t intended to blossom into anything, at least not into something so great, something that gives him so much peace and warmth. Something that, for a moment, gave Minho the urge to throw away his policy and just fall right into your embrace, letting himself go completely.

It was something that, for a moment, made him want a happily ever after.

* * *

Minho turned over his laptop for you to look at, even though you two were working in a shared document and you were one click away from the page. Leaning forward, your propped up leg left the chair, you squinted at the words and the visual that Minho spent the past minutes to make perfect.

“Mmhmm, that’s nice,” you complimented in a soft voice, nodding in approval. “Just hold on, I’ll finish my paragraph in a minute then you can read over it.”

Minho nodded then, leaning back on his seat and stretching his arms out. He looked outside the library window, watching the people outside making their way down the street and realizing that the day had passed without him noticing.

He removed his eyes from the window and back at the table, where you were seated and furiously typing away on your laptop that his screen was lagging behind in showing your work.

Leaning forward, Minho laid his chin on his forearm and he started a conversation.

“So, (Name), guess who scored himself a little date?”

Minho waited for your reaction, anything that indicates you felt reluctance in the fact that he would be going out with someone else. Maybe a twitch of an eye or continue typing the wrong letter. Anything that leaves him a hint on whether you have even the smallest feelings for him.

And if you did, he would cancel the date so fast you wouldn’t even know he had it in the first place.

“Oh really? That’s nice,” you muttered under your breath, trying to look at him but the document at hand was not giving you a chance. “I wish I can do that but nobody likes me so I guess I’ll die alone.”

Minho sat up a little, “Hey, this isn’t self-loathing hour, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” You said as your fingers finally halted to a stop. Scrolling up, you gave the passage a scan before you breathed out a content sigh. Finally finished. When you looked over to Minho, your forehead creased at the way he was glaring at you. “What did I do?”

Minho softened. Has self-hate been a part of your life for too long you stop being able to recognize if you’re hurting yourself emotionally anymore? “You know it hurts your mind more when you say it to yourself right? Because your mind is convinced that you think it is true.”

“We learned that in class, Minho, I know,” you replied.

He whined, “Then why are you still doing it!”

You shrugged, “It’s my coping mechanism for my shitty, sad self. And because no one has ever… shown me otherwise?”

“You insult yourself one more time and trust me, I’ll kick your ass,” Minho pointed at you, causing you to laugh incredulously.

“It’s fine, Minho, this is a thing,” you said, “You clearly don’t understand how much I don’t like myself, but I’m fine.”

Minho stared at you for a moment, his cheeks puffing out as he quietly blew the air out. His lips stretched downwards into a scowl as he suddenly stood up, going around the table to wrap you in a headlock.

You stifled a laugh, hitting his arm gently as you looked around the area to see if you two were bothering anyone who was actually trying to pass a grade. There were a few looks, but that was it. Seeing your lack of protest, Minho ruffled your hair roughly and decided to let you go.

He sat back across from you, bringing his chair closer to the table as he grabbed a hold of your laptop, settling down to proofread what you wrote.

You fixed your hair, brushing them down with a scrunched up nose that displayed your faint annoyance. Breathing out a sigh, you laid your head on top of the table after seeing Minho might need some extra time to read through your work.

“Minho,” you started, only continuing after you heard him hum absentmindedly in response. “What is up with you and jumping from people to people? If I’m not wrong, you aren’t going to be serious with this one either, are you?”

Minho looked over at you briefly before he replied, “It’s not that I want to play around, I just… I don’t think people are meant to be together.”

You raised your eyebrows curiously, “Really? Why is that?”

Minho removed his eyes from the screen, looking at you in contemplation. You were stepping in deep water, it was something Minho had told no one except for his small group of close friends. You could sense his hesitation, so you decided you wouldn’t push him to answer you.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. Look, I don’t know what happened, but let me tell you one thing, Minho,” you said, twirling the pen in your hand before stopping and pointing the tip at him, “You are going to find someone one day, someone who can break down your walls and make your heart flutter like no other, someone who you can’t keep your hands off of. Maybe you are right. People can’t be together forever, so let’s rephrase that.”

You smiled, eyeing him smartly, “You’re going to find someone who makes you want an eternity.”

Minho exhaled softly, absolutely amazed at the words that just came out of your mouth. He had his doubts about you being a writer, but they just got blown away completely by the sentences you had just constructed from your mind on the spot. All the words forming together to tell him that you believed that there is a possibility for him that he never thought he’ll have.

Looking down at his lap, Minho spoke, “My dad remarried four times. I never thought it would impact me this much, actually. I always thought as long as I have a roof over my head and food on the table, I will be fine, but I guess a mother figure can never be replaced by materialistic things that my dad tries to give me over the course of switching mothers so many times until I had none.”

You didn’t speak, waiting for him to finish meanwhile you place your chin on your palm, staring at him with soft but attentive eyes.

“I chose to stay with my father when he first separated from my birth mother. I didn’t know I was in for one hell of a ride,” Minho smiled bitterly, “The other moms I’ve had, they were all nice to me, so caring and so understanding. Some of them have their own kids so I had temporary siblings. They all got my hopes up, each and every time, that maybe one of them will stay, but none of them ever did.”

You hummed understandingly yet you were unsure what to tell him. You couldn’t relate. Your parents loved each other and they loved you. You’ve had a mom who is always there when you call her and a dad who brings home your favorite snacks every other night. The only things you could say were probably useless words that Minho had heard multiple times from people he had actually told this to.

“Ah well, guess we’re just two broken hearts,” you said, “You know, me with the self-hating and you with the mommy issues.”

Minho laughed dryly at the way you phrased it as he tapped his nails against the surface of the table as he stared hard into space.

“You wanna read some books?” You suggested suddenly then, looking at him, “There are a lot of books here.”

Minho looked behind you at the bookshelves, all lined with books that he probably won’t even spare a glance at if you never asked. He jutted his bottom lip out with a nod, “Do you have any recommendations?”

The grin that spread across your face was one of the things Minho liked about you. He watched you get off the chair excitedly and rushed over to the shelves. He could see you moving from one side to another between the gaps of the books and his eyes trailed, not once leaving your figure while he watched the number of books expanding in your arms.

You came back with a mischievous grin, setting the books down in front of him before you started telling him about what each one was about. The fascinating universes, the characters that you held so dear to your heart, the specific events that had made you cry and laugh at the same time—they were everything you love and felt passionate about.

Your face displayed so many emotions that Minho wasn’t sure where he should start, but he remembered every detail of them. From the dreamy fog that clouds your eyes when you talked about a beloved character and the way your fists pumped as you held yourself back from a spoiler.

Listening to you talk about the things you love makes him fall in love, all too quickly for him to catch himself. But quite frankly, my dear (Name), Minho doesn’t want anyone to save him.

* * *

When Minho stuck his plastic fork into your chocolate cake for the fifth time, taking away a small piece yet again and popping it into his mouth, you flashed him a glare and pulled back the plate that was set on the small table standing in between the two of you.

“I asked, clearly, if you wanted anything, Lee Minho,” you hissed out, careful not to irritate the groggy not-so-morning people waiting in line for their coffee before hurrying to work. “You said no, you said you’re not hungry, you said–”

Minho held up his hand to cut you off, the tip of the fork pressed between his teeth with his lips quirked up into an amused smile. A few giggles sounded from him as he nodded in defeat, “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll get you a new one next time.”

You scoffed at him, grumbling about how you haven’t had time to get yourself a decent breakfast because Minho needed to meet up so early in the morning to do a portion of the project so he could run off with a girl in the afternoon.

Bitterness swarmed in your heart like dust. Shine a bright light on it and it becomes visible to human eyes. You got it, he has a date, alright. Why did he have to keep reminding you of that? To shove your loneliness right in your face? Or was it fate telling you to take a step back and stop feeling anything for him, because it’s a lost cause?

“You don’t have to, just get your own next time,” you said, looking away from him and back onto the screen of your laptop.

“I would but I don’t like anything here,” Minho pointed out, giving a grimace to the people around him who seemed to actually enjoy the coffee produced.

“You were just eating my goddamn cake,” you perked up, your voice coming out as a hush.

“That’s because it was right in front of me! I can’t help it! But generally, the coffee here isn’t my cup of… tea,” Minho frowned. That sounded better in his head. “They’re too sweet, I like them more well-blended and no sugar.”

“So you like bitter things,” you said, dull eyes glaring holes at Minho as if he just said something offensive to you. “You like dark coffee that has absolutely no taste in it, just like your taste buds.”

“It’s either no taste or it’s bitter, (Name), pick a side,” Minho retorted with a gentle roll of his eyes. “And no, it’s not that I like bitter things, I’m just not much of a sweet-tooth.”

Once again, with your never-ending glare of absolute deadpan, you pointed at your half-finished chocolate cake and spoke with emphasis on each word, “You were just eating my goddamn cake.”

Minho’s jaw dropped in disbelief, “Fuck, (Name), are we still talking about that? I said I will get you another one later, alright? I didn’t bring enough money to last more than the date today, I’m sorry!”

Your shoulder slumped at the mention of the date, even though it wasn’t like you hadn’t been thinking about all the fun he was going to have with someone else anyway. Pouting, you lowered your head to focus at the document shown on the screen, mostly at the white margins of it instead of the content. You weren’t really in the mood to decipher words.

Seeing your reaction, Minho’s forehead creased in concern. “Hey,” he breathed out as he stood up, moving across to sit on the sofa next to you. Pushing himself, and the chair, closer to your side, he leaned over to your shoulder and asked, “What’s up with you today? I know this isn’t just about the chocolate cake.”

“Nothing is up. I’m just… ” you turned to the side, pausing as you process the lack of distance between you two, and you pushed his face away, “I’m having a sad day, that’s all. It happens all the time, it’s fine.”

“Oh no, why?” Minho asked, sounding like a kid asking for the reason behind something tragic that had happened. His voice was laced with worry and sympathy.

You pressed your lips into a small smile, “No reason, it just happens. I will get over it eventually, Minho, don’t worry about me. Go worry about your date, how could you only bring the minimum amount of cash on a date? That’s disingenuous.”

You clearly don’t understand how much Minho cares about you for you to say that. But it was his fault, he didn’t say anything to you and you were the kind to need reassurance instead of subtle hints being dropped now and then.

“Your idea of a good date depends on how much money I bring?” Minho asked.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” you said accusingly.

A small yelp sounded from Minho’s mouth, it was the cause of his failed attempt on surprising a laugh in this supposedly serious situation. He grabbed your hand, causing your word to be spelled only halfway, and he casually intertwined his fingers through yours.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he muttered.

You grumbled, “Don’t be, I’m the one who’s venting it on you. I should be sorry. You go have fun on your date and we can finish this later, I guess.”

Minho faced forward, thinking a little too much about the way your fingers went limp as soon as you spoke, yet somehow, he held on. And he waited for you to do the same.

* * *

Nothing good was coming to mind.

You had been lightly tapping your fingertips against one single key on the keyboard and not once did you actually press anything firmly to form an actual word. You kept getting distracted by the increasing tabs appearing on top of the web-browser, learning about different kinds of useless information you have looked over before during your writing sessions.

Except those were actually productive.

You shut your laptop and placed it on the tea table. Getting off the couch, you planned to head to the small kitchen in your poorly decorated one room apartment to get yourself a carton of strawberry milk, but a knock at your door made you pause.

You moved over to the side where your nightstand was sitting next to your bed and glanced at the clock, questions popping up in your head when you saw the time. Carefully, you approached the door and hid your body behind it when you slowly twisted the doorknob and opened the door ajar ever so slightly.

Peeking over, you found a familiar face leaning against the doorframe with a pout and you quickly pulled the door wide. “Minho? What are you doing here–did you stop by the coffee shop again?” You asked, eyeing the takeout bag in his hand.

Minho nodded slowly, holding it up, “I told you I am going to get you one.”

You hummed, “You didn’t have to but thanks. You still have money left to get me a cake?”

“I did, the date didn’t go as planned,” Minho started as he walked in, kicking off his shoes to the side and putting the chocolate cake on the tea table when he approached. He slumped onto the bed with a sad smile, “She turned herself in and told me she doesn’t trust me enough at the end, but she said she had fun.”

You weren’t sure whether to celebrate or not. Minho seemed really bumped out about the fact that his beliefs were slowly becoming true due to his actions and you, of course, felt bad that he wasn’t feeling his best. But god, it was such a relief to hear he didn’t have as much fun as you thought he would.

You placed the chocolate cake into the refrigerator and pulled out the strawberry milk. Harshly poking the lid with the yellow straw, you skipped over to Minho and slumped down next to him. You offered him the drink after taking a small sip, and he gladly received it.

“I like the banana flavored one more,” he commented as he swallowed a whole chunk down his throat, causing you to roll your eyes at him.

Silence fell between you two for a moment. Minho dropped the drink next to your laptop, keeping a good distance in case one of you was to knock it over with your legs accidentally and forever corrupt your laptop. When he leaned back towards the couch, he huffed out a sigh in relaxation.

“I’m going to die alone,” Minho said, “I am never going to be in a long term relationship, (Name). I might as well start planning for my future, like how many cats I want to have and find places good to live in when I have five hundred cats.”

“Jesus, Minho, you’re not going to end up alone,” you slapped his shoulder, seemingly annoyed at his words, “At least people still like you. You just have to try and work it out.”

Minho whined, “This is all my dad’s fault!”

You turned your head over to look at the defeated pout on his face as he threw his mini tantrum and pushed the blame to his father. You giggled, unknowingly moving closer so you could bring his head close to your chest.

Minho shut up immediately, a little shocked but overall, emotional. He had never been cuddled before, he was always opening his arms to hug other people. This was a fresh change, to have someone hold him close and trap him in a protected space.

He didn’t even know he needed it before your arms wrapped securely around his shoulder, and he realized he loved this feeling. It let his vulnerability seep freely into his being, letting him breathe easily again.

He was only ever able to do it at the comfort of his own home. And it’s been known to him that you felt like home.

Minho pushed his weight down and you let him. You two ended up lying on the couch, your eyes looking up at the ceiling and Minho’s focused on the black screen of the television. His grip on your waist firm, with his fingers intertwined together at your back.

“I’m scared, (Name),” Minho whispered, breaking the silence.

“Of what?”

“I don’t want to be alone,” he confessed, “Dad is always working and the house is always so quiet when I get home. There are no sounds of anyone moving things in the living room or cooking in the kitchen. No one ever barges into my room to nag me enough to make me feel irritated. I’m always by myself and I hate it.”

You could hear the heartbreak in his voice and you felt your stomach fell. “I’m here now,” you said, “And I will be if my company means anything to you.”

Minho’s heavy gaze softened, giving the empty screen a break from the glares he had been shooting its way. He wanted to chuckle but that would break the peaceful atmosphere you two had cultivated together, so he chose to press his cheek to your chest and rest there, drowning in your rosy scent and your sweater warmth.

You really didn’t understand, huh? You didn’t understand how he finds solace in your delicate touches and the tender heaves of your chest. You didn’t understand how he sees rainbows in his eyes and feels soft waves in his heart whenever he thinks about you. You didn’t understand how you manage to make him feel at home so easily.

You clearly didn’t understand, my darling, that you were the eternity that you told him he would wish for one day.

* * *

Minho woke up groggily, as he does every morning, whether he wakes up later in the afternoon or earlier in the morning. He found himself on your bed, however, instead of on the couch as his dreams had told him.

You walked out of the kitchen then, with two mugs in your hand. When you saw that he was awake, you frowned a little in disappointment. You were going to stick the burning hot surface of the cup to his cheek to see if it will wake him up but that plan was shattered now.

“I made you coffee, hopefully, the way you like it, you picky bastard,” you said, setting down the coffee on the tea table, “Wash up first though. Just rinse your mouth or use your finger, I don’t have an extra toothbrush for you.”

Minho scowled at you before he moved the blanket away and got off the bed. Washing up didn’t take him too long, you assumed all he did was dump a big handful of water in his mouth and his face and called it a morning. The collar of his shirt was stained with water drops when he got out and his hair was messier than ever, but he manages to pull it off as he does with everything and anything.

You were furiously typing on your laptop when he finally settled down and drink the coffee you made him and he knew you weren’t working for their project. The coffee wasn’t the way he liked it but he drank it down anyway. He would just have to tell you some other day, not wanting to pull you away from your creative bubble.

Minho hummed from the back of his throat, looking around to clear his sight and shake away the drowsiness. He noticed when you stopped typing and he looked over, one eyebrow raised in curiosity, “Are you finished?”

Your brows were furrowed as you shook your head, looking up at him, “No, I’m stuck again. I don’t know what they should do next.”

Minho sat closer tentatively, “Can I see? See if I can help?”

You glanced at him, reluctance spread across your face, but you needed an extra set of creative minds for your story right now, so you let him. “Just read what is shown, don’t scroll up!”

Minho chuckled in response, carefully going line from line as his lips pursed in concentration. After a moment, he smirked, “I am not sure about how those two feel, but from what I’m reading, they should kiss.”

You breathed out a gasp, “You think so too? Damn it, I guess it is inevitable.”

“You sound mad, why?”

“I–I am not good with kiss scenes. I can write them, yes, but these two are super special to me and I just want them to have the best first kiss, you know? I’ve waited for them. Hell, they’ve waited for it!” you exclaimed.

Minho blinked a few times, his lips quirking up into a smirk, “Do you want some references?”

“Do you have experiences?”

“As in we can make-out right now.”

You almost choked on your own saliva when he suggested it, his tone so casual, in complete contrast to his nervously trembling heart. Putting your laptop aside, you faced him fully, “This is just for reference, right? It’s not weird or anything, it’s just for my book.”

Why did it sound like you were trying to convince yourself more than you trying to make sure Minho wasn’t going to tease you about it later.

Minho opened his arms, beckoning you over with a newfound confidence that he never really had when he faces you, and you moved. As soon as you got close enough, within the reach of his arms, his hand grabbed a hold of your shirt and he pulled you desperately over to him.

You yelped in surprise, your hands rested on his shoulder to steady yourself when you landed on top of him. You cleared your throat then, looking down at him with nervousness displaying at the knit of your bows but definitely no hesitation.

“Um… I’ve… I’ve never done this before… do I just–” you shut your eyes tightly and leaned down, sealing his lips with yours for just a brief moment before quickly pulling away.

Minho felt the wave crashing down on him as soon as your soft lips touched his, the minty aftertaste mixing with the sweet coffee you just had for the morning. He eyes trailed along your face, admiring the way your features were hit by the odd ray of sunlight that managed to seep through the curtains that you didn’t open for the sake of his sleeping form.

The apartment was quiet, with only the faint sound of your washing machine turning in the kitchen and the sounds of cars moving out of the driveway to the narrow road. But it wasn’t the kind of quiet that Minho was so used to.

This one was peaceful and nostalgic, like the kind of mornings where you wake up, you look around everything that you have in your room as if you were slowly remembering who you are after a week of exhaustion, and you just fall right back to the comfort of your pillow.

Minho’s hands tucked behind your knees and he pulled you forward as his legs propped up, so you were sitting on his abdomen and leaning against his thighs instead. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” he breathed out, his nails ghosting from your leg to your face, where he finally pulled you down to meet your lips.

Your mind went blank then and there and you couldn’t feel much of anything else except for Minho’s hands–one deep in the roots of your hair and the other one cupping your face so gently as if you were a china doll.

Oh and his lips, his soft lips, and his teeth that had unconsciously bit at your bottom lip before running his tongue over it and tasting your honey lip balm.

Lee Minho–it’s just him, he’s the only one you’re sane enough to feel right now.

He held you close, close and careful, and his lips worked like magic against yours the way you to his. You two were drowning in each other’s pool of love, helping each other forget the flaws you both owned and making each other feel perfect when in fact, you two weren’t as individuals.

But it was the possibility that you two could be when together. That was the important part.

Minho gave your nose a soft nudge, his lips lingering on top of yours before he pulled away slowly, his eyes fluttering open after a few moments of settling his heart down. You were panting, but also completely shy about the aftermath of being so close to Minho.

You squealed then, burying your face to his neck, willing him not to laugh by tightening your arms around his shoulder. Minho pursed his lips together to keep his grin from tearing the corner of his mouth apart as he wrapped his arms around your torso, keeping you flushed against his body as he too rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I’m not laughing, I promise,” he muttered.

You scoffed, “Yeah right. I can feel you smiling on my skin, Minho.”

He chuckled, sending shivers down your back with his breath even though just a second ago you were literally tasting it on his tongue. Looking up at the plant that sat right next to the door to your apartment, you let yourself focus on the trail of Minho’s lips that went from your neck down to your shoulder, the longing of his soft lips and the warmth of his embrace sending you a new hint of sleepiness.

“Minho…” you muttered, relaxing even further into him, “I… actually, nevermind.”

He sighed contently, his hand running up and back your back soothingly as you two stayed in that position for longer than expected. When Minho spoke again, you were already fast asleep, he could tell by the light heaving of your chest.

Minho giggled as he stood up, holding you in place by gripping on your legs. “Oh, you’re heavy,” he groaned under his breath as he made his way back to your bed, where he sat down at the edge.

He glanced at the time to realize that it was only a little after twelve. He didn’t remember most of yesterday night, only the fact that you had pulled him close in comfort and he fell asleep. Perhaps you didn’t sleep as early as he did and you also woke up earlier than he did, so now your body is making up for it.

Minho slowly scooted to the back of the bed after propping up a pillow, leaning against it so his back wouldn’t have to touch the hard wall. He pulled the covers up to your back so it wraps around the both of you, sending you two even more warmth than you could already feel.

Once again, he circled his arms around your torso, resuming the mindless trailing of an unplanned picture on the small of your back. He exhaled as he leaned down to press his lips to your shoulder again, planning to let them linger there for a long time while he stared at the dust flying around that odd ray of sunlight that came through the curtains.

He thought he could do this every morning.

He wanted to do this every morning.

* * *

Chan’s glare was obvious when Minho sat down across from him and Jisung. But his glare soon turned into a look of confusion when he saw the glitter in his friend’s eyes.

“Someone is happy,” Chan commented, knowing well to take away his tray of food and set it on his lap instead.

“Him and (Name) has been sitting on a tree, k-i-s-s–”

“We did kiss, you don’t have to tease me about it.”

“Oh shit, you two did? When? How was it? Oh, tell me everything!” Jisung’s eyes were wide in excitement, almost as enthusiastic as Minho was if not more.

Chan nudged him with a teasing laugh, “Don’t push him, he probably doesn’t want to tell you, Jisung.”

“Why would he not? We’re best friends, we tell each other everything!” Jisung retorted, but then his shoulder slumped and he looked away with a scowl, “Actually, with the amount of time you’re spending with them, they might have already climbed the ladder and stepped on top of me now.”

“Actually,” Chan looked from Jisung to Minho, the hopeless look on his face fading into a questioning expression, “Wouldn’t that make you two partners instead?”

Minho clicked his tongue, a look of defeat on his face that both Chan and Jisung immediately saw through. Chan’s jaw dropped in realization while Jisung simply looked disapproving.

“Why don’t you tell them, you two already kissed anyway,” Chan asked.

“(Name) only did it because I suggested it could be used as reference, I’m not sure if they really feel that way about me,” Minho grumbled under his breath. “Quick heartbeats and short breathes means nothing to me when I can get that from running too much too.”

Jisung tilted his head to the side, “They have to have noticed. You don’t even date as much as you used to anymore. I’m sure they have noticed but they just aren’t sure if the one in your heart is… well, you know, them.”

Minho moved forward to pinch Jisung’s cheeks, cooing lovingly at him. Jisung accepted this weird way of Minho thanking him for his encouragement, smiling with a low hum. When Minho pulled away, he stood up, causing the smile on Jisung’s face to turn into one of annoyance.

“Bring them to see us, damn it!” Jisung demanded, throwing a piece of fries at Minho, who was slowly moving away from the table so he could leave the school.

The smile on Minho’s face stayed all the way until he arrived at your apartment again, and when you opened the door, your cheeks stuffed with food, light danced before his eyes.

“Hey, I was just resting, I swear I was working on the project,” you said hurriedly, letting Minho lock the door for you instead.

Minho laughed, “I didn’t say anything. Besides, we don’t have to rush, we are almost finished with it.” He turned around and his eyes squinted lightly at the change of your furniture.

The tea table was moved aside, sticking to the shelve of books near the plant that was beside the door. There was only a fluffy rug in the middle now, with the company of a half-empty bag of chips and a carton of banana milk.

“Hey, did I bought that or were you stacking some up for me?” Minho asked, moving over to sit in the middle and conveniently picking up the drink so he could take a sip.

You pushed him aside to give yourself more space on the rug before you laid down, “It doesn’t matter, it’s almost empty now.”

Minho hummed in agreement, deciding to finish the drink before laying it down carefully on the side. He supported his torso with his hands, leaning back on it as he glanced around the area before he looked down at you. Seeing that you were simply staring up at the ceiling, he mirrored your action, completely unfazed by your weird antics.

“So what are we doing?” He asked in a hush.

“Nothing. I do this sometimes because the floor helps me think, and the rug is nice to lay on,” you shrugged, feeling the texture on your skin and shivering in comfort. “You can think, of course, you just have to keep quiet.”

Minho nodded, “Okay… is this one of those methods for fighting writer’s block–”

You sat up suddenly, startling Minho and making him scoot away quickly as he sat up. You turned to him with wide eyes, a look of enthusiasm, “Oh! I have to tell you the idea I got yesterday night, for Minho!”

Tilting his head to the side in confusion, it took Minho a moment to realize you were talking about the character, who was essentially him but in papers. His eyebrows raised in anticipation then, urging you to continue with what you have in mind.

Your hands waved around frantically as you rambled on and on about the potential plot that your mind had created, your voice raising bit by bit, unbeknownst to you. You were excited, and your affection for writing was rubbing off on Minho, bringing the same sparkles behind your eyes to his face.

His hand reached up to you involuntarily, grabbing a hold of your jaw and it rested there. You stopped talking, your voice trailing lower and lower and your hands dropping to your side slowly. You were looking at him with curiosity, but other than that you face was blank the way your mind was.

Minho noticed his action, but he decided he doesn’t have to stop. This could possibly be the moment that he needed, the moment where he could do what Jisung had told him to do: to tell you that he’s in love, not just with anyone but with you.

You nervously laughed, “Minho, you’ve been acting kind of weird lately.”

“Really? I don’t think so, I’ve been like this since forever.”

He was smiling at you with so much tenderness in his eyes that you would be lying if you said you couldn’t sense his feelings for you, it got you scared to be honest, because you weren’t sure if they were real or not.

It wasn’t rare for him to look at you like this. Most of those times you simply look away or change the subjects, but Minho seemed to be satisfied enough to just be able to stay within your presence.

But you couldn’t look away now, he’s got you trapped in his fingertips, and it felt like he’s going to kiss you again. And you are surely going to drown when he does, falling into submission completely.

Why are you scared now?

_If Haeun didn’t manage to be the miracle in his life, what made you think you would?_

“You don’t have to do this,” you said, “you don’t have to act as if you love me, Minho.”

His hands slipped away from your jaw as a moment of shock flashed before his eyes. “What are you talking abou…” And then it was hurt that washed over his face, “oh my god, (Name), did you think I was faking it the whole time?”

You winced at his tone, pursing your lips together and refusing to look at him in the eyes. God, you should have let him do it. You should have let it go and just wait for fate to do its work. Anything but hearing his brittle voice.

You do have a way to turn it back.

“Aw, damn it, you’re boring,” your tone changed drastically. From timid and cowering to playful and friendly. You looked up, a frown etched on your face as you slapped Minho across his shoulder, “Give me something exciting, something I can put in the book!”

Minho blinked at you a few times. He had expected himself to be angry about this, about you stirring up so many negative emotions in his heart and playing it off a moment later as if nothing happened.

But he wasn’t. He was more relieved than ever, feeling the weight on his heart being pushed half-way down. Only half-way, though.

Because somewhere, deep within your voice, he could hear a tinge of doubt, and he knew you weren’t sure.

At this point, he wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing either.

* * *

Minho’s doubts got the best of him and he chose to stay away for a while. But Jisung and Chan both knew that he made the wrong call because being away from you was driving Minho crazy. He was spacing out and laughing too late at everything.

Yet they weren’t so sure if being with you was going to change the situation much either, now that they knew you have this weird distrust towards him, towards people having feelings for you.

You perked up when the seat across from you was pulled away and you smiled at Haeun, who returned your gesture politely. She looked great, as beautiful as ever, and you just wanted to coo in awe.

“Did you order anything yet? Just get whatever you want, as a thank you gift for getting me out of that situation with Minho,” she said as she carefully grabbed the menu and scanned over it.

“I haven’t, I was waiting for you,” you said, laughing a little before the light-hearted moment died down and it was just pure awkwardness.

Haeun cleared her throat, looking around thoughtfully before she turned her attention to you. “So, um… you and Minho… have been hanging out?”

You paused at the mention of him, your heart aching a little upon the fact that you two haven’t really talked after that day, even though you had tried to mask your words with a facade. Minho saw through you, as he does, and now you’ve chased him away.

You’ve asked for this, but now that it really happened, all you wanted to do was curl up and cry about your feelings. This time without Minho.

Haeun pursed her lips together, “Jisung and Chan told me Minho’s side of the story.”

“Huh…?” Your eyes widened and you abruptly shot your hands out, “Oh no, please don’t take me as a threat to you. I didn’t know you still love him, I just–don’t worry about me, I don’t matter!”

Haeun breathed out a heavy sigh.

To a certain degree, she could sympathize with Minho. She doesn’t know what hurts more, to have the love of your life tell you they never loved you, or to have them doubt the infinite love you hold for them and hear them step on themselves while you watch, hanging onto the idea that you might never be able to make them feel better.

They both hurt a great deal, that was what she knows.

“(Name), if I am still in love with him, I think it is safe to say you pose as the greatest enemy to me,” she pointed out softly, “Minho… he’s… he’s a good liar. If you ask me right now, I won’t be able to tell you if he is faking his feelings for you or not either, so I don’t know what his two friends want me to do.”

You blinked a few times, “Jisung and Chan asked you to talk to me?”

“Yeah, only after they found out we are meeting up, though,” she giggled, waving her hand at you dismissively. “Anyway, as I said, we can’t tell, right? We can’t tell if Minho meant it or not and you wanted to be cautious about it. I understand that. But what if he isn’t lying?”

“What if he is?”

Haeun furrowed her eyebrows, “Do you love him?”

You looked away, “Love is a strong word.”

“Love is a strong feeling, (Name), and they’re usually hidden well by people,” Haeun said, “You can’t feel it if it’s not there, no matter how hard you convince yourself.”

You relaxed a little, sitting back on your chair as you stared at the girl in front of you. “You… you knew?”

Haeun smiled, “I had a sense, but I didn’t want to believe in it. I went along with the relationship to get the most out of it for as long as I could, until the day he breaks my heart. The thing is, (Name),” she leaned forward, “I loved him then, and I chose the process even if it meant the pain that comes with it at the end. So why not give him a try?”

You gulped, looking into her eyes and suddenly feeling a surge of determination.

Seeing your smile, Haeun reached over to give your hand a few pats before she pulled away. “Okay, let’s order some food, I am really hungry,” she said, raising her hand for help but also looking at you with a playful grin, “Oh, and please, don’t shock him with those reference lies again. He’s really going to get a heart attack one day.”

You taught Minho he could find someone who would make him want an eternity, so why not tell yourself that it is okay for you to want one too. And if one of your possible eternities was cut short, so what?

You will find someone, you will always find someone, someone out there searching for theirs too, just like you. But for now, you choose Minho.

* * *

The tension was unbearable and the awkwardness was too loud for your own good. You sat at the edge of your bed while Minho worked by the tea table, the project forcing you two to communicate face to face instead of through the lagging screen of your documents and the texts that were often never checked.

Haeun’s words echoed in your mind, encouraging you to speak up. Her voice got louder and louder until you suddenly snapped, letting out a frantic yell. Minho turned to look at you quickly, his eyes scanning you to see if anything was wrong before he loosened up.

“Sorry, I was thinking,” you apologized, biting your lower lip in contempt. “Uh… Minho, can you come over here?”

He had to pinch himself at the side of his thigh to stop himself from smiling when his name left your lips, coming to his ear in your sweet voice. He placed his laptop aside and nodded, standing up and approaching you by the bed.

He sat down, waiting patiently for you to speak. His hands were curled in tight fists that laid on his lap. This was killing him. Being away from you was enough to drive him insane, but the feeling of sitting so close to you yet not being able to do the usual playful banter was even more deafening.

“I want to start by telling you I’m sorry, for doubting you and making us awkward,” you said quietly, knowing Minho could hear you clearly, “I missed you, a lot, and I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Minho gulped, wanting to hug you but he was being hesitant, “I forgive you.”

“And, um, I… You…” Your jaw hung open, unsure of how to get your thoughts across with words, so you decided to do what was probably the worst decision you’ve made in your entire life.

You went ahead and kissed him.

Minho responded quickly, way quicker and more eager than you thought he would be. This was a confirmation, from you to him, that you would like everything to be okay again.

You held onto his arm, feeling your back touch the edge of your laptop and having to pull away, “Wait, Minho–my laptop–”

“I’ll get a new one for you, I promise, just–” he reached over carefully, closing the lid and bringing it to the middle of the bed before he pushed your back to the wall, lips still on yours and his hand roaming the skin of your jaw to your cheeks.

God, being with you drives him crazy too.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, softening at the hazy sunset that shone behind them. “I missed you too,” he breathed out, a smiling appearing on his face before his body went limp against yours, leaning in your embrace for the sake of his own life.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, earning a nuzzle to your chest.

Minho closed his eyes, “Tell me about the story again, I wasn’t paying attention before. The story for Minho.”

You laughed a little before you started, reciting every detail from the universe you created from scratch. Minho listened, still finding solace in your fingertips that tightened around his and touching hands with euphoria whenever he listens in on you talking about the things you loved.

And he wanted to do this forever, with you, with his eternity.

He didn’t even realize it, but this was his fairy tale, and this one is going to go on for a long time.


End file.
